


Mercurial Obedience

by quicksilver_nightsky



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Forced Muteness, Imprisonment Recovery, Indentured Servants, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mind Control, Orgasm Control, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery, Socially Acceptable Slavery Universe, Travel, uneducated characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-09-05 14:49:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16812835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilver_nightsky/pseuds/quicksilver_nightsky
Summary: This was what he knew about life:There were a small number of people who were worthy — those who were Served. And then lots of people who were bred and raised To Serve. There were many different ways To Serve, and different families and Facilities established to training the people on their different roles of service.He knew that Besithia Facility produced Sex Toys, and that he was a Quicksilver model that was no longer in production, in the accessory shop for Display Purposes Only.





	1. Display Purposes Only

**Author's Note:**

> My brain: Hey, I see you’re nearly finished your current fic.  
> Me: ...hoe don’t do it  
> Brain: HERE’S A NEW AU THIS IS ALL YOU CAN CONCENTRATE ON NOW  
> Me: OH MY GOD!

He didn’t like it when he had to display the vibrating dildos. He squirmed and bit down on his lower lip, trying to suffocate down his noises. He wasn’t allowed to make any noise on the floor. The salesman on hand — he’d never been told and of their names — was very eager with the cattle prod. But it was so hard. 

At least he wasn’t displaying the rings or (even _worse_ ) a cage too today. He could _spill_ when he needed to. (As long as it wasn’t _too often _. Sparky complained when she had to clean up too many times.)__

____

He flexed his thighs, trying to focus on redirecting the blood flow from his hardness. But he got distracted when the movement had the dildo digging in deeper and vibrating _right up_ against his sweet spot. 

____

He writhed against the bars of the frame that was meant to keep him staying on his feet all day. He could feel the clear liquid seep out of his hardness, taking deep, deep breaths to try and fight against the need to make noise. 

____

Sparky came over, zapping the metal of the frame with her cattle prod. He jerked away from it, back onto his feet — even though his knees almost buckled the the shift of the dildo inside of him. “Look sharp, Slut. We’re about to have company.” 

____

At least she was nice enough to warn him. Usually his first knowledge of customers where when they started poking their fingers through the frame to prod and explore and tease his body. It must’ve been someone important coming — because Sparky pushed the button so a fine mist of refreshing, perfumed water covered his whole body. And then she actually rubbed him down with the towel?? She usually only did that at the end of the day. 

____

And then the red man arrived. He was tall, and his hair was red, and he always wore a mocking smile when he came by. He was someone important in the facility, but he didn’t know what exactly the red man did. 

____

Three men followed behind him as the red man led them into the store. “And this is our accessory store,” Red explained, giving a sweeping gesture around the shelves full of items. “All are designed and tested for specific use on the Toys.” And then brown eyes were almost cruel as Red led the three men over to his display. “This is one of our display models. A Quicksilver Unit — they’re no longer in production. Today he’s demonstrating,” there was a pause as Red checked the brightly coloured package on the pedestal in front of his frame, “Cocytus 3, our latest model of the ten-setting vibrating dildo. This one has a wireless remote control.”

____

That he hadn’t known before. His eyes tracked the remote desperately, as Red picked it up and handed it over to the shortest of the visiting men. “Why don’t you give it a test?”

____

He wasn’t allowed to, but he met clear blue eyes as one finger pressed against a button. It didn’t last long — the sudden increase in the strength of the vibration had his grip on his pleasure being torn out of his hands. White sparkles covered his vision, and he could hear a forbidden cry of pleasure escaping his throat as pleasure rushed through his body and out of his hardness. When his brain cleared, it was to notice the vibrations being turned off. The rest of his awareness came back in waves. He was leaning against the metal frame of his support, chest heaving with breaths. His eyes cleared and they were still looking at the stranger with the remote — and there was something dark in those pretty blue eyes. 

____

The remote was calmly handed back to Red and the stranger (his voice surprisingly deep for his skinny, pale frame) said, “very well. I’ll take it.”

____

“The Cocytus 3, sir?” Sparky asked, eager to make a sale (probably out of pure boredom).

____

“You can throw that in. I will be taking the model.”

____

Wait, what? He lifted his head, turning it slightly so he could watch the downturn of Red’s mouth. “It’s a Display Model, sir. It’s not for sale.”

____

“Then you won’t sell it to me. You will present it to me as a gift.” Sir seemed really sure of that. 

____

“Sir, there are plenty of newer models awaiting purchase in the pens,” Red suggested, “we’d be happy to assist you with picking one of our state of the art.”

____

“I don’t like those,” Sir said, giving a dismissive sniff. “They’re unattractive. I like this production line. And you said it was out of production, so I _will_ have this one.”

____

“Sir, if—”

____

“Lord Izunia,” another one of the three men interrupted (and he had the strangest sounding way of talking!), “it would be in your best interests to attend to the Ambassador's wish. You wouldn’t want him to leave the Besithia Facility with a negative impression of Professor Besithia’s work, would you? When Insomnia is relying on his suggestion on who to offer a military production contract to?”

____

Red (what was his name? Lord?) bowed. “Of course not. I was only hesitant because the Quicksilver Production Models have an embarrassing discolouration problem when exposed to sunlight. We don’t like to have inferior product in public circulation.”

____

“Then I’ll just have to keep it out of sunlight, won’t I?” Sir (the Ambassador?) commented, sneering slightly. “And I think you ought to throw in a selection of all your latest accessories, so I can get the _best impression_.”

____

Red just got _played_ , he thought, hiding a smile in the curl of his arm. 

____

“It would be my honour, sir. Let us allow the shop manager to arrange this for you while we continue our tour of the facility.”

____

__

__

***

__

__

____

This was what he knew about life:

____

There were a small number of people who were worthy — those who were Served. And then lots of people who were bred and raised To Serve. There were many different ways To Serve, and different families and Facilities established to training the people on their different roles of service. 

____

He knew that Besithia Facility produced Sex Toys, and that he was a Quicksilver model that was no longer in production. 

____

(He hadn’t known about the discolouration thing before though. That was new. He _liked_ to learn New.)

____

It had been his lot in life to stay at the Facility on display in the accessory store, until he was old and unattractive and had to be Recycled. Because he was a Display Model, he hadn’t gone through the training the other Sex Toys had. The lessons how to please The Served, and exactly what it was he was expected to do. But from the Accessories he’d had to display, he thought it must have something to do with pleasure, and hardness, and placing things in his back hole — occasionally in his mouth hole, but less often. 

____

But that was all he knew. 

____

One of the people in clean white coats he rarely got to see strapped him down to a soft table and put a helmet over his head. A strange buzzing filled his head, something tickling behind his eyes. “Scrubbing Display Model Protocols, doctor.”

____

“Queue up the install of Service Protocols directly afterwards, and then we’ll bring the Ambassador in to set up the voice recognition.”

____

“Yes, doctor.”

____

Everything went fuzzy and grey for a while. When colours came back, he was still lying on the soft table — but instead of a helmet there was just two little squeezes of pressure on either sides of his head further back than his eyes. 

____

Across the room, the Ambassador was standing inside a half-tube thing, a fuzzy microphone level with his mouth. 

____

“First we have to set the voice recognition for his obedience compulsion. This particular production line is programmed to any command proceeded or directly followed by the trigger word ‘Quicksilver’.” The first coat’s voice said, in an almost bored voice. “Please maintain eye contact with the model and speak the word ‘Quicksilver’ clearly into the microphone after the tone.”

____

They really were pretty blue eyes. They weren’t so dark now, just calm and blank. His voice, lovely deep voice, spoke into the microphone that seemed to be connected right to his good feelings. “Quicksilver.”

____

He took a breath, making sure it was silent of his voice, and squirmed a little in the soft table. He wanted him to say it again, that just felt so very _nice_. His hardness was growing again. 

____

“Besithia guarantees that the models from the facility are unable to achieve climax with the appropriate trigger phrase,” First Coat continued, still just as bored, “we recommend the phrase ‘come, Quicksilver’ for its simplicity, but that is your choice sir. Please clearly speak your chosen phrase after the tone while maintaining eye contact with the model.”

____

Ah, there was a little bit of darkness in the pretty blue eyes then, as he leaned closer to the microphone. “Come, pretty.”

____

The absolute white pleasure that only came with his spill washed over him, and it was a while before he could focus again. His head felt kinda sparkly and floaty and nice. 

____

“A model’s mind is at its most suggestable following orgasm. If you wish to implant any temporary commands — a maximum of twenty-four hours — you may do so after issuing the trigger command for climax. Any long-term commands and compulsions must be issued by the team at Besithia Facility. Do you have any required compulsions to apply at this time?”

____

“No. That’s enough. I prefer my toys to obey me, not their programming.” 

____

“Yes, Sir. Are there any cosmetic adjustments you wish to be made to the model by our wardrobe team before collection?”

____

“Give it a haircut, and dress it in something warm and comfortable. I have a long journey ahead of me through the mountains.”

____

“Yes, Sir. Please test the function of the programming by ordering the model to sleep using the obedience trigger.”

____

Pretty blue eyes were looking at him again. “Go to sleep now, Quicksilver.”

____

Tiredness washed over him, and he spared the Ambassador a smile before his eyes closed. 

____


	2. A Train

He woke up somewhere soft and warm, juddering back and forth in a strange way. He opened his eyes to look around — because this definitely wasn’t his dormitory at the facility, or his display frame at the accessory shop. It was some kind of bedroom — with bunk beds in it, like the dormitories at home. But it was a small room — only room for four beds and a little bit of floor space — instead of the large dormitories they had. The walls beside the beds were made of some strange brown material that didn’t feel cold to touch— but one of them was a pale coloured metal that was familiar. There was a window (a real window!!!) on the metal wall near his head, with shuttered blinds pulled closed so only a little bit of light came through the gaps. Towards the strange brown wall at the end where his feet were… well he guessed it was some kind of door. But it didn’t have a door handle, or a slot to pass food trays through. 

He sat up, feeling a soft, warm blanket slide off his torso. He was wearing clothes. Actual clothes! They were soft too, and warm in the otherwise chilled air. He fingered the long sleeve, sliding his feet out from the bed. They curled up in protest against the cold metal floor of the room, but he pressed his whole foot down until he was used to the temperature and stood up, careful not to whack his head. He crossed to the door and tried to figure out — it took a few attempts before he pulled a little catch and slid the door to the side. That was pretty cool. But he didn’t get the chance to focus on the new way of opening doors for long. 

On the other side of the hallway, beyond the door, the wall was made entirely of glass. His feet carried him over, staring with a slack expression. 

They were moving pretty fast — that explained the juddering feeling — but the most beautiful sights were going past. Like the paintings of the ‘landscapes’ in the halls of the Facility, instead of windows to the outside. Whatever they were travelling in crossed paths with another long metal thing, wheels skating across a metal rail with horizontal wooden slats. When it passed, it was the beautiful landscape again. 

He raised one hand and pressed it against the glass. He never thought he’d get to see this. The world outside the facility. There were so many colours and shapes and things to see. There was so much and it was so beautiful and he wanted to see it all. 

He was interrupted when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “There you are.”

Turning, he saw The Ambassador. His new Keeper. He smiled and opened his mouth to greet him with ‘sir’, to be polite. But something weird happened. 

It was like his brain forgot how to make his mouth say words. He tried thinking it hard ‘sir’, but his mouth just stayed parted open waiting for information. Why couldn’t he talk? 

Instead, he bowed to him — that was polite enough. And he managed to do it. 

“Follow me,” the Ambassador instructed. 

He did without hesitation, and was led through a set of metal slidy doors into a different part of the long travel tube. Here there were plain seats in pairs facing each other, with a table between them made of the same strange brown material. 

The same people from the facility were sitting down, watching them approach — the funny sounding one with glass in a frame in front of his eyes, and the other one who looked really big and strong. But there was no one else in the long metal room. All the other chairs were empty. 

The Ambassador sat down next to the funny voiced one, and he settled into a comfortable sitting position resting his head against one of Sir’s knees. He was resting on his rear and one thigh, his legs folded and tucked to the side so he wasn’t taking up much space in the walkway. 

Ew, there was lots of sticky coloured lumps under this table. None near his face at least, but still ew. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” That was a new voice - he had to assume it belonged to the big one. It was rough and deep and growly — and it fit his appearance. 

“Gladio,” the Ambassador warned. What was a Gladio?

A huff of breath answered him. 

He tuned out of their conversation — they were naming people and places he didn’t know, and using confusing words like ‘informants’ and ‘communications’ and ‘the investigation’. It wasn’t until he figured out they were talking about him that he focused again. 

“...by choosing the Quicksilver, you’ve compromised this whole investigation.” That was funny voice. 

As if confirming that it was him they were talking about, the Ambassador’s hand raised up to stroke through his hair. Ohhhhh that felt so good, he slumped bonelessly against the seat and the Ambassador’s leg. 

“—not going to talk about my motivations right now, Ignis.” The Ambassador’s deep voice rumbled through his body and into his. 

“You swore to his majesty, before he agreed to let you take this mission, that you would not compromise it with any rash actions.” Who was His Majesty? That was a funny sounding name. “Picking one of the examples of what he’s trying to build a criminal case against is the exact _definition_ of compromising the mission.”

“You think I could leave him there, Specs?” Wait who was Specs now? “He’s a person, not a damn mannequin to dangle sex toys from until he has no choice but to come.”

“If the prince _himself_ has one, how are we supposed to argue that it’s morally corrupt?” Growly demanded. 

He was morally corrupt? Why? Also what did morally mean? And ‘the prince himself’? And who was the ‘he’ they were talking about? He hadn’t been dangling off anyone had he?

Fingers lightly scratched against his scalp and his tension _melted_ away. Okay, he didn’t care about anything in the world as long as The Ambassador kept doing that. 

“We’ll say we took him as part of the investigation. When we get back to Insomnia we can have the programming studied and reversed engineered to get a better idea of what they’re doing here.”

Okay, they were back to talking about nonsense again. He closed his eyes and nuzzled into the Ambassador’s knee, smiling to himself as he enjoyed the soft attention he was getting. 

He came back into awareness again at the shift of movement — he was dislodged from his comfortable slump when the Ambassador stood, and Growly’s feet accidentally kicked him as the muscular man slid across the chair to stand. 

He got to his feet as well, keeping his head bowed politely. The Ambassador touched his shoulder and he glanced up a little, daring to meet the pretty blue eyes before he remembered he wasn’t allowed to. They were soft though, so he didn’t think he was doing to be punished for his slip up. 

“This is Ignis, okay?” The Ambassador said, gesturing to the one with the funny voice. “I want you to go with him, and do what he says. He’s my Household Slave, so he’s in charge of looking after all of you. He’ll take you to get something to eat.”

He nodded — and wanted to say ‘thank you sir’, but the words got trapped somewhere between his head and his mouth again. Instead he bowed gratefully. 

The Ambassador’s hand squeezed his shoulder gently and then moved away — the other two left while he stayed behind with Ignis Funny Voice. 

“If you’ll follow me,” Ignis said, his funny voice kinda cold and mean. “The train is equipped with a limited kitchenette in the dining car. I’ll prepare you something.”

T r a i n. He liked that word. “What’s a train?” He paused for a moment as he realised… words had just come out of his mouth? Without him even trying???

“A locomotive vehicle that consists of an engine that pulls along a series of connected rooms called ‘cars’. What we’re travelling in right now.” Ignis gave him a suspicious look. “You can speak and understand the common tongue?”

“Yes?” He replied uncertainly, still surprised by the words actually coming out. 

Ignis’s lips pursed but didn’t say anything else, striding away down the ‘train’ — he followed close behind him. He wanted to ask about some of the other words he’d used, like locomotive, and kitchenette. But he didn’t think Ignis would appreciate his questions, so he kept quiet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tfw you’ve never seen wood before.


	3. Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> This chapter may toe your non-con/dub-con line.  
> There’s also a minor bit of mental torture? 
> 
> More details in the end notes.

After Ignis had made him a simple meal — some kind of meat and cheese pressed between two thin bits of bread — he commanded him to stay there. He didn’t have to obey — the Ambassador was his keeper, not Ignis — but Sir had said he was in charge of all the slaves, so he should listen to what Ignis said at least. So he ate the meal and looked out the windows at the landscape passing. 

He thought he could hear arguing through another one of the doors. (What had Ignis called these little rooms? Cars? He thought cars were road vehicles…)

Eventually the shouting stopped and the door slid open. He looked over and smiled at the Ambassador. But Sir looked serious, and came to a stop in front of him, blocking his view out the window. 

“Quicksilver, look at me.” 

Startled at the unusual command, he raised his eyes to the pretty blues of Sir. 

“Tell me the truth. Ignis said you can speak and understand what we’re saying. Is he correct?”

He tried to put the word out ‘ _yes_ ’... but it wouldn’t come. Just like before when he’d tried to talk to Sir. Instead, he hung his head in shame and nodded. 

“...shit,” the Ambassador whispered. Sir walked back out to the next car, and he went back to looking out the window. The door slid shut but didn’t catch properly, and this time their voices were audible. 

“He could be a spy,” Growly said. “Maybe Izunia tricked you into taking him, so he could find out what we were really in Niflheim for.”

“That does bear some logic,” Ignis agreed. “He’s already heard too much.”

“I’m not going to hurt him,” Ambassador said stubbornly. 

“Yet, we have to find some way to silence him.” Ignis didn’t seem pleased either. Who was this guy they were talking about, anyway? ‘He’ sounded like a lot of trouble. 

“...you could order him not to be able to tell anyone,” Growly pointed out reluctantly. “You know he’s got a built-in compulsion to obey.”

“The very order would reveal that we’ve discovered his ruse. Would that we had another option.”

“...there’s another option.” The Ambassador’s voice was almost inaudible, quiet with reluctance. The three of them walked away, and he couldn’t hear them anymore. 

He hummed, eyes tracking the mountains they passed as they went from snow-covered to pale brown and hard-looking. 

Footsteps approached, and he looked up when Ignis returned. His face was pursed and looked almost angry. “Noctis wishes you to service him. You will return to the bedroom.”

“...who?” He asked, getting quickly to his feet. 

Annoyance flickered over Ignis’s face before it became calm again. “Your owner.”

“Oh. I thought his name was Sir.” Feeling foolish, he headed back out to the car with the seats, and then beyond it to the one with the windows and the strange brown walls separating the small dormitories. 

Growly was standing outside the door, and gave him a threatening glare as he passed. He flinched away, curling in on himself protectively. What had he done? Why was Growly mad at him?

He slid the door open and stepped in, carefully moving it back into place. 

The Ambassador — Noctis, apparently — was lying on one of the beds. The handsome expression looked torn for a moment, before it settled into something imperious. “Well? Are you going to stand there all day?”

Bowing his head in shame, he approached the bed, taking off the nice clothes as he went. Had he done something wrong? Was Noctis that angry that he could talk? He’d never do it again, if he could get the soft look and nice touches back. 

The Ambassador tossed a squeezy tube of slick fluid onto the ground between his feet. “I trust you know what to do with that?” The question was said in this belittling tone of voice. 

He didn’t like it, but he buried his feelings deep down as he knelt down to pick up the tube. Maybe the softness was just absent-mindedness? The Ambassador might not have been fully aware of the fingers gently petting through his hair under the table. Maybe Noctis had an animal at home or something who usually sat at his knee. 

But yes, he knew what to do with the slick. The employees at the store in the facility hadn’t been allowed to put anything him. Every time he’d had to display something that went inside his back hole, he was the one who had to slick himself and push it in. 

Staying on his knees, he felt his expression smooth out to nothing as he covered his fingers in the same slick he’d used at the shop and reached down past his softness and balls to find the waiting hole. He was quick — efficient, the store employees had sometimes said, (but he wasn’t sure what that word meant) — and soon had three fingers moving in and out of himself with ease. Three was usually enough, unless he had to display the really big accessories (and he didn’t like those). 

He put the cap back into place on the tube and rested it on the bed with his clean hand, staying put to wait for the next instructions. 

“Come up here then! You plan to sit on the floor all day?” The Ambassador sounded so annoyed about it. 

He scrambled up onto the bed, as quick as he could make himself move with a tingling numbness settling into his lower legs. He could guess what he was meant to do — and some part of his brain gave him instructions on how. 

He peeled back the sheet so see the Ambassador naked from the waist down. His hardness wasn’t all the way there, but his brain prompted him again. Shifting at the end of the bed, he leaned down so he could take the hardness between his lips. Teeth covered — that seemed important, (though he wasn’t exactly sure what teeth were)? 

He suckled on the Ambassador’s hardness like he did with the mouth toys, until it was completely hard inside his mouth. He drew away, crawling up the bed so he could sit over the hardness. 

He paused there, until the Ambassador gave a breathless “Yeah” of permission. Then he took the hardness in his hand and shifted down (a little strange, he was usually moving accessories up into him) until it was pressed inside his hole. 

The Ambassador moaned with pleasure and pushed up — he gave a soundless gasp of pleasure as it rubbed against his sweet spot. He gripped tightly at the crossed wires of the bunk above him, trying to catch his breath. 

He’d had bigger accessories inside before — and ones that curled right into his sweet spot, and of course the vibrating ones. But nothing had felt this warm, this _right_. He couldn’t understand his own thoughts about it. 

“Move.”

He nodded and began to lift and lower himself using his leg muscles. He winced as his head bumped against the wire support above him, but didn’t dare try and change position. 

Words kept escaping the Ambassador’s mouth between groans and moans. Like “so good” and “yeah like that” or “faster” (he made sure to obey that one) and “more” (he didn’t know what was more, but he tried to go faster then too).

The hardness felt good moving in and out of him, rubbing against his sweet spot, but he kept getting distracted from the pleasure by his head banging up against the top bunk. It was getting all tender, and he was worried he might be Bleeding. 

(Bleeding was not good and he’d only done it a couple of times by accident, but everyone at the Facility had always been mad at him when he did.)

And then suddenly he was in a different place. Too quick for him to keep track of, the Ambassador had moved their positions so now he was lying down against the mattress and pillows, and Sir (no, Noctis?) was the one above — his legs in the air, the Ambassador’s body between them. 

The pale, thin body moved with speed and force, pushing the hardness in and out of his hole. It rubbed up against his sweet spot in the best way, and he couldn’t help little sounds of pleasure from escaping his throat. 

“Yeah,” the Ambassador panted, “I wanna hear you.”

Noctis… did? But he wasn’t supposed to make any noise. 

Even if he’d wanted to make noise or not, he didn’t have a choice. Every press of the hardness into him was making his voice escape with his breath. His hands scrambled for somewhere to hold as he could feel his pleasure climbing towards the white peak of his spill. (What had they called it at the Facility. Climax?) 

They ended up grabbing onto the Ambassador’s back, fingers digging in tight as each thrust pushed him higher and higher. 

But it was like wearing a ring. It pushed and pushed, but for some reason he couldn’t spill. An unhappy noise escaped his throat and he squeezed his eyes closed. 

“I’m nearly there,” the Ambassador groaned out between thrusts. A few more pushes and then the hardness inside him spilled, filling up his hole. 

The Ambassador, breathless after he cry of his pleasure, leaned down to whisper into his neck: “Come, pretty.”

Everything burned white, pleasure spilling out with him along with a scream he couldn’t keep in. Everything was floaty and nice afterward, and he made happy little hums about how good he felt as he lingered in the nice place. 

Someone was whispering to him, a voice gentle. “You won’t be able to tell anyone about what you hear us talking about, no matter what they command you. You won’t be able to give anyone our names or identities. Everything you learn while you’re alone with the three of us will be secret.”

Yeah. Okay. He nodded with a happy hum and nuzzled into the pillows. 

And then some of the nice warmth was gone. He emerged slowly from the nice place, the words he’d been told slipping out of his brain until he wasn’t even sure he’d been hearing any words at all. 

“Ramuh’s _belt_ , Noct!” That was a funny voice. Ignis? Yeah. Ignis. “He’s _shredded_ your back!”

“You’ve done worse,” the Ambassador muttered. There was a crack of something smashing, and a strange smell in the air. And then the sound of fabric moving, and a belt being rebuckled. “I need to get some air. You and Gladio rest it out.”

And then the door was being yanked open. He opened his eyes, looking up at the wires of the upper bunk frame with fuzzy eyes. He turned onto his side and flinched when he saw Ignis and Growly glaring at him with hard expressions. 

“So,” Growly growled. (Heh. Growly growler growl growled.) “What did you hear earlier at the table?”

“I wasn’t really listening,” he answered, bowing his head. “But I thought—” _you were talking about me for a little bit._ It happened again. His words got stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth. He tried to force them out. Even silently say them, but his mouth just didn’t work. He tried again with the next part: “But then Sir was petting my hair and I stopped paying attention any more.” What? What was happening. 

Ignis leaned forward, eyes calculating. “I told you the name of your keeper earlier. What was it?”

He opened his mouth to answer — _Noctis_ — But the words wouldn’t come. His eyes hurt, and everything started to wobble and get fuzzy. 

“What is his name?” Growly demanded, voice harsh and angry. 

He tried again — _Noctis. Noctis! **Noctis**!_ — but he couldn’t do it. A sob escaped his lips, and he shook his head in voiceless horror. 

“What is mine?” Ignis demanded. 

That wouldn’t come either. His sight was all wobbly and then cleared as he felt something hot running down his face, only to get wobbly again. He couldn’t breathe for trying to make the words come out. 

“And mine?” Growly asked. 

It was almost pleasure in itself when he could gasp the words out: “I don’t know!” Cause he didn’t. He only knew he was Growly. 

They left the room and he curled up, body shaking strangely, more hot wetness escaping his eyes. 

“It was successful,” Ignis’s voice could be heard just outside the door. “We ought to tell Noct.”

“How long will it last?” 

“Only twenty-four hours.” 

Growly took a deep breath. “I hate this. I can’t stand this. I know we have to protect our secrets but it’s not fair. Not fair on him.”

“It’s only for a week,” Ignis said, his voice softly soothing. “Then we’ll be back in Insomnia, and it won’t have to be this way any more.”

“Seven days.”

“Just seven days.” There was a weird slick noise, like sometimes when he pressed his lips together when he was bored. Then Ignis spoke again: “Come. We better go find our prince.”

Their feet went away, and he pulled the blanket of the bunk over his head. They were smelly and damp and he could feel spill over his stomach and leaking out of his hole. But he didn’t get up to move. He just stayed there in the bed. 

They would tell him when he was wanted again. Until then, he would stay here quiet and out of the way. He wouldn’t talk, and he wouldn’t bother anyone. He’d be a good toy, like he was made to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dub-con: Noctis and Prompto have sex. Noctis has to do it in order to mentally manipulate Prompto, and Prompto obeys because he considers it his place. 
> 
> Mental Torture: Prompto is forced to try and speak even though he is mind-controller and unable to, which causes him distress.


	4. Name

It got dark outside, and the other three went to sleep in the other three bunk beds of the room. And then it got light outside again, and bit by bit they woke up. 

He listened to this all, head still hidden beneath the sheet of the bed. At least until Growly yanked them back when the sun was high and said: “up!”

Be good, he told himself. He was too used to having accessories in him to hurt in the morning like he used to, but his legs were a little sore from the position. And his eyes were all scratchy. 

The was led to a little cubicle with a metal toilet and sink. When he stepped up to the sink after he had finished with the toilet, he realised his nails had blood under them. He didn’t know why, and he scrubbed them until they came away clean. 

Ignis presented him with new clothes (what was wrong with the old ones??) and they left him alone while he dressed. The sheets of his bunk had been stripped off so only the bare mattress and uncovered pillow was left. Had he been bad enough with the talking and stuff that he’d lost that privilege? 

Sad and confused — he didn’t know how to be _better_ — he crawled onto the bare mattress and curled up. 

Ignis came in to call him to something called ‘breakfast’, but after he stayed quiet and still on the bed, he closed the door again and said to someone: “still asleep. He’s as bad as Noct.”

He was beginning to think the ‘he’ they kept talking about was _him_. He wasn’t used to being called a ‘he’ instead of an ‘it’ anywhere else except inside his own head. But that meant he was _bad_.

He hoped the ‘he’ wasn’t him. 

The train came to a stop, but it was noisy outside. He went to the blinds and pulled two apart with his fingers to peek out. There was lots of people outside. Lots more than three. Shy, he backed away from the window. 

Ignis came to the door, gave him shoes — shoes! Like a proper person! — and led him out to one of the doors to leave the train. It was really bright outside — brighter than the lights in the Facility — and he winced against the feeling stabbing into his eyes. But Growly poked him in the back and he realised he was supposed to follow after the Ambassador. 

“Welcome to Zegnautus Keep,” Ignis muttered, the funny voice almost bitter. 

Zeg-nau-tus. He liked that word. It felt like it would be fun to say — not that he’d ever say it. 

Whatever he expected inside, The Red Man was not one of them. 

“Ambassador!” Red greeted, coming over to give them a warm smile. “I’m pleased you made it.”

“Chancellor Izunia,” Noctis greeted. “You will be showing us around your second facility today as well?”

“Oh yes. I make it my job to know about everything that goes on in all of the Facilities I sponsor. Come in, let me begin the tour of the Military production facility.” Red led them to a large elevator — and paused as brown eyes settled on him. “Goodness. You brought along your Sex Toy. I didn’t recognise it, with clothes on.”

“I’m possessive,” the Ambassador answered. “I don’t like other people being able to look upon my things.”

“As you wish.” Red pressed a button and the doors closed. “Is it performing its duties to your standards?” 

“It’s adequate.” (He didn’t know what that word meant. But he didn’t think that was a yes.) “I have some complaints. For instance, it’s nice and quiet with me, by I’ve heard it speaking to my other slaves.”

“Ah, yes. The programming inhibits it from addressing Masters, but it requires an additional setting to mute it completely. Shall I arrange that for you?”

“No need. It will learn its silence in time.”

Oh. He was right then. The Ambassador hated that he could speak — that he’d been speaking with Ignis. Well, it would be okay now. He didn’t need time, he could learn his silence now. 

“While we’re on the subject — Slaves have to be registered by name in Lucis. What was it called at the Facility? If it must have a name, it may as well be something it knows to answer to.”

“Names? For Slaves? How quaint. But I suppose that is the product of born and raised slaves, instead of engineered ones.” Red laughed to himself, then answered: “It didn’t have a name. Call it whatever you like. Sex Toys are always exceedingly stupid, but it might catch on that a certain word means it eventually.”

The Ambassador grunted, and said nothing else. 

The doors eventually opened on what he immediately knew as the aging room. There were long tubes all around, with figures of different ages and sizes floating around in a special fluid. He blinked for a long time at the face of a pale body nearly fully grown with tufts of hair in a strangely familiar yellow colour sticking up from its head. A strange feeling squirmed in his stomach just looking at them, and he dropped his eyes down. 

“Gods,” Ignis whispered. “But that’s—”

“Ah yes. Of course. Well, I mentioned yesterday that the Quicksilver model went out of production at Besithia Facility. The skin condition made them unsuitable for the use as Sex Toys. But we were able to repurpose their DNA strand for the use of the military units here at Zegnautus — their armour modifications mean that the condition is never activated.”

None of that made any sense to him. The only thing he got was the part where he was unsuitable. 

The Ambassador made an indifferent noise and said “should we move on?” — but with his eyes pointed towards the floor, he noticed Noctis’s hands shaking slightly. He couldn’t figure out why, so he let the thought go. 

The best part of the tour was pretty boring, just some fully grown ones with helmets over their head, getting their military training. 

The next room made him uncomfortable though. There were hard metal tables laid out throughout the whole room, and the people in white coats were operating machinery. 

As he watched — Red’s voice a drone in the background he didn’t try to listen to — a scary-looking circle with glowing edges descended down and cut off the arm of one of the military Slaves. He scratched absently at his arm, it stung as if he could imagine the pain of it too. 

“Take it out,” the Ambassador was saying to someone. “If it throws up, I don’t want to know about it.”

“Sympathetic phantom pains,” Red said, voice filled with curiosity. “How interesting…”

But there was an arm leading him out of the room and he didn’t understand why. He dared to glance up — and Ignis looked absolutely spitting with anger. 

His arm was still itchy. He rubbed it as if that would help it go away. 

***

Everyone was quiet on the way back to the train. 

The doors closed behind them and it started to judder with movement again almost right after. Ignis and Growly went in separate directions, and he was left standing there with the Ambassador. 

He suddenly found himself crowded against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around him, one shaking hand stroking through his hair. 

“Oh gods. The things they were doing… breaking them down piece by piece and turning them into machines.” Noctis shook against him. Awkwardly, he raised one hand up to rub his back — he didn’t know why but he thought it might make the Ambassador feel better. “That could have been _you_.”

He had no idea what was going on. But he stood there in Noctis’s arms, rubbing a hand down the clothed back, until the shaking stopped and the Ambassador stepped away. 

“We’ve gotta give you a name. Everything’s fucked up, and there’s nothing much we can do to fix it right now. Not until this is over. But at _least_ we can give you a proper name.”

Ignis appeared in the sliding doorway again. “I’ve made us all coffee,” he announced. “I didn’t think it would help. But I won’t be getting much sleep tonight, I think.”

They all moved to the ‘dining car’ — Noctis’s hand on his back making sure he was coming too. Ignis sat in one seat, far against the window, and the Ambassador moved to copy his position in the other side. 

He ducked down to crawl under the table to kneel, but Noctis grabbed him and guided him until he was curled on his side on top of the chair, with his head in the Ambassador’s lap. Fingers started stroking his hair and lightly scratching at his scalp and he couldn’t even complain about anything. It felt so nice. 

“Where’s Gladio?” The Ambassador asked. 

“No doubt turning another training dummy into sawdust.”

They were silent, except for the slurps of drinking from cups, until Growly (Gladio, probably? That name didn’t seem to apply to anyone else) came in and sat down next to Ignis. Under the table, he saw their hands move together until their fingers were interlocked. He didn’t understand that gesture but I seemed nice. 

He put his own hands together in the same way and gave a slight squeeze. Yeah. That was nice. 

“You decide what to name him yet?” Gladio grunted. 

“Prompto,” Noctis said, nails dragging across his scalp in the nicest way. “Prompto Argentum. But just Prompto.”

“A literal translation. But without the sound associations,” Ignis replied. “I like it. Prompto.”

He felt Noctis’s hands turning his face up so he could look into pretty blue eyes. “Your name is Prompto now, okay? Do you understand that?” His voice was really gentle. And really kind. 

He nodded. Promp-to. Yeah. He liked it. He held the name protectively to his chest. He had a name now, a real, proper name. And no one would take it away from him. 

He was Prompto. Prompto Argentum, Noctis had said. 

Yeah. He would keep it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tfw you have freckles when you go in the sun so you gotta become an MT instead. 
> 
> Prompto Argentum is direct Latin translation for “Quick” and “Silver”. Quicksilver (the metal) was called... uhhh -checks google- argenum vivum, which means “living silver”. This has been fun word lesson time with your buddy Quick.


	5. Cold

The three men stayed sitting around the table until the outside got dark again. They spoke to each other sometimes, but Prompto never heard his new name so he didn’t listen to what they were saying. 

At some stage, his belly made a strange growling noise. Confused by it — he hadn’t heard himself make that noise before — he reached down to poke it with curiosity. 

“Well, he didn’t join us for breakfast,” Ignis said. “I’d best put something together.” 

“I’m still not hungry,” the Ambassador complained. “I don’t think I’ll ever be hungry again.”

“Yes, we’ll see how you feel next time we pass a kebab store,” Gladio said flatly. He slid out of the chair so Ignis could stand up. 

They came back later with a tray full of those bread-meat-cheese things. The Ambassador nudged him to sit up (though he was a little sad he wasn’t lying down for hair pets any more) and handed him one. 

Gladio ate a couple, and Noctis picked up one but only tore it into pieces instead of eating. During the meal, a strange beeping sound came from Ignis’s pocket — and when he peeked over to see what it might be, Ignis took a sort of flat remote out of his pocket with a touch screen instead of nobs. 

“What’s that for?” The Ambassador asked. 

“...it’s been 24 hours,” Ignis explained. “It’s worn off now.”

Noctis stiffened beside him, Prompto wondered why, what it meant. “...I can’t,” he whispered. “Not after today. You can’t expect me… I just _can’t_.”

Prompto leaned into him, hoping the Ambassador took a little comfort from it. He smiled a little when Noctis’s fingers came up to stroke through it hair. “I just can’t,” he whispered again.

Ignis sighed. “Well. We aren’t due to reach Fennestala until tomorrow lunchtime. I suppose it can wait until morning.”

After Prompto finished his sandwich, he shifted down so he was lying with his head in the Ambassador’s lap again. He got gentle fingers stroking his hair and scratching at his scalp as the three of them spoke in quiet, calm voices. After a little while he couldn’t stop yawning, though he tried to keep his eyes open. 

Sleepy, he let himself be handled up to his feet and led back to the little dormitories — though he couldn’t tell you _who_ was guiding him. He just followed obediently, eyes mostly closed as he walked behind them. 

When he got back to his bed, he saw that his blankets and pillows had been given back. He was too tired to wriggle happily like he felt like doing — they must’ve been happy with him for not talking any more, so he’d earned that privilege back. He kicked off the shoes he’d been given and slid between the sheets. They were lovely and soft and clean when he curled into them with a happy sigh. 

“We’ll be passing through Ghorovas Rift overnight,” Ignis explained, tucking the blankets around him. “It’s going to be dreadfully cold, and out best chance of survival is to co-sleep in the bunks to share body heat. Will you be comfortable sharing with Noctis, Prompto?”

He opened his eyes with a hum. Prompto was him! Ignis was talking to him, asking him a question. He nodded with a smile. Yeah, he didn’t mind sharing with the Ambassador. 

“Yes?” 

He nodded again. 

“...well.” Ignis seemed uncomfortable for some reason. “Goodnight then, Prompto.”

He nodded and closed his eyes again. Within moments he slipped away into a comfortable rest. 

***

When he woke up, it was really really cold. Colder than he’d ever been. When he exhaled a shaky breath, it escaped as white smoke into the air. There was something warm behind him, so he shuffled back into it. Arms tightened around him and an icy nose tucked into the neck of his shirt to try and warm up. 

Across the room, Ignis’s funny voice hissed into the air — he saw the white smoke — “bloody buggering hell, Gladio,” he said, “it’s colder than Shiva’s tits in here!”

Gladio — the other lump in that bunk he assumed — snorted. “Relevant. Come here. I’ll warm you up.”

“They’re two feet away, Gladio.”

“And his highness slept through a car crash once. Relax.”

Prompto couldn’t take his eyes away, watching with curiosity. The two of them pressed up against each other, and began putting their mouths together. They made wet sort of slapping sounds with each other’s lips, until it changed into something more slick and longer as they fastened their lips together. 

Then they turned so Gladio’s muscular body was on top, pressing down against Ignis’s. Wasn’t he crushing him? 

Ignis began to make gasping noises — like he was having trouble breathing with Gladio on top of him. But then he made a different sound (a moan!) and Prompto realised they were having sex. 

He sat there, confused, watching them press up against each other with panting breaths and moans and groans. But neither of them were Sex Toys? So why were they doing this to each other…?

Underneath the blankets, he felt a warm hand cup his hardness through the pants he was wearing. “They look good, don’t they?” Noctis whispered in his ear, too quiet to be heard by the other two over their own noises. 

He nodded, feeling his cheeks grow hot. The two of them did look very nice together. He could feel his body throbbing with pleasure. 

The hand — Noctis’s hand — rubbed across his hardness. “I used to be with them like that,” he explained. “It feels so good to be pressed between them like that. But they fell in love with each other, and they only want to be with each other now.” There was a pause, then Noctis’s hand slipped inside his pants. “Do you know what love is, Prompto?” He whispered. 

He breathed hard, pressing back into the hand wrapped around his hardness. He nodded in answer to the question. — One of the store employees had liked to talk. She’d told him all about her ‘boyfriend’, and how she’d grown close to him and fallen in love with him over a few months. Love was… softness and warmth. When you liked to spend time with the other person more than anyone else, and you liked to ‘kiss’ them (whatever that means). When you cared about making them happy, and being with them. He knew what love was. 

Noctis’s hand began to move up and down his hardness, pushing his pleasure higher and higher. “I miss being with them,” he whispered, beginning to press his lips on and off against his neck. “But we have each other for that now, don’t we? You and me.”

He breathed hard, pushing his hips forward into the hand moving on him. It was hard to focus on what Noctis was saying — and he couldn’t really understand what his words meant either. He belonged to Noctis now, but he wasn’t sure what he’d meant by him having Noctis in return?

A thumb swiped over his tip. “You’re so slick,” Noctis murmured. “Are you close?”

He nodded. He might have spilled already, if he could. 

Prompto felt a warm, damp tongue rubbing up his neck up to his ear. “Then you can come, pretty Prompto.”

White pleasure washed over him as he felt himself spill. He floated around in the nice, soft space — he thought he could hear words, but he didn’t focus on what they were. A loud moan pulled him out of it, and his eyes focused on the bunk across the way. 

Gladio had thrown his head back to cry out — that had been the noise — probably to spill?

Prompto could feel a shift of movement behind him, and when he turned to look he realised it was Noctis — his own hardness in hand, pulling himself to spill. Feeling a little shy, he moved his hand down to touch the hardness himself. 

Noctis moaned at the grip of his fingers, pretty blue eyes focusing on his face. “Prompto?”

Carefully, he moved the Ambassador’s hand away from himself, replaced his hand with his own. He began to copy the same up and down movement Noctis had done on him. 

The Ambassador shuddered with a quiet moan. “You don’t have to…”

He dared — just a moment — to meet the pretty blue eyes. He gave Noctis a smile, and then lowered his gaze again to look as he pulled pleasure out of his hardness. This was his task, yes — he was meant To Serve Noctis by giving him pleasure. But more than that, he wanted to make him feel good. After all the soft touches today and the pleasure Noctis had just given to him. He _wanted_ to make him spill. 

When he did, it was with a moan that he hid in Prompto’s neck. He stayed closely wrapped around him after as well, until he was breathing deeply and asleep. 

Ignis silently passed Prompto a tissue that he used to clean up his hand, and then all four of them fell asleep in the room that was now warmer from their activities. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much fic has everyone swearing “Shiva’s Tits” Where did that even come from? LOL.


	6. Lunafreya

Tennebrae was nice! The air smelled like his old mist baths in the store — flowery and clean water. He hung over the railing of the train “station” (a new word he’d learned!) looking at the waterfalls, and the fields of blue flowers, and the big pretty building that looked like it was floating. 

“You checked Ravus wasn’t in residence?” Noctis asked someone — probably Ignis, he always asked Ignis things instead of Gladio.

“Confirmed this morning. Lord Nox Flauret is in Altissia, attending to diplomatic matters. Our cover is secure.”

Prompto leaned over a little more to see if there was anything splashing in the waterfall pools, but he felt a hand in the neck of his shirt pulling him back. “Prompto!” Gladio growled. “Be _careful_!”

He wriggled free of the shirt to escape and leaned over again, but holding his arms around the railing so they weren’t worried about him falling over. 

There was the soft slap of skin meeting skin. “Put your clothes back on!” Gladio demanded. 

Noctis laughed, one hand settling on the skin of Prompto’s back and lightly stroking. “He’s having fun, Gladio. Don’t be such a grump.”

Prompto turned his head around to grin at the Ambassador but he paused when his eyes slid past his owner’s body to see _the most beautiful woman he had ever seen_ walking towards them. The other three tended as they looked and noticed her as well. 

“Ambassador Gar,” she greeted, her smile soft, but her eyes glittering with some secretive laughter. “Welcome to Tennebrae.” She had the same kind of funny sound to her voice that Ignis did.

“ _Luna_.” Noctis whispered, his voice low and intense. 

She came up to the Ambassador and took both his hands so she could make clicking noises with her lips on either side of his cheeks. “Imagine my surprise when I returned home this morning to learn that Lucis’s Ambassador _Noct Gar_ would be coming to the Facility for a tour.”

“The Ambassador has been touring facilities in order to assist the council on their decision on who to contract for the production of a new military force.”

“ _Ignis_!” she said with a smile. “Goodness you’ve grown! And Gladiolus, a delight to see you again.” Her eyes settled on Prompto, and he was intensely aware that he was not wearing a shirt and was hanging over the railing. “...and who’s this?” She asked with a smile. Noctis’s hand stroked down his back. “This is Prompto. My new Server.”

“Nice to meet you, Prompto,” she said with a soft smile. “I’m Lunafreya.” She offered a hand out for him to touch. 

His mouth opened and closed — but he couldn’t speak to her. Cheeks burning, he turned his face away and hid in his elbow. 

“Prompto’s not used to company,” Ignis explained. “He’s still quite shy.”

She gave a gentle little laugh. “That’s quite alright. Why don’t you come with me? I’ve arranged for us to have tea before we begin the tour.”

They walked towards the big floating facility. Prompto snatched his shirt back from a laughing Gladio and tugged it back on. 

They sat in a nice room with floaty curtains, and Prompto settled happily beside Noctis’s knee. Everybody else drank a yucky brown water from little pretty cups and mini plates — but Prompto kept sneaking the sugar-dusted cookies off the plate in front of him on the low table whenever he thought nobody was watching. 

He perked up when two fluffy four-legged things trotted into the room. They looked so cute and so soft! He reached out to the pale-coloured one, who sniffed his hand and then ran over to rub against him and give little licks all over his neck and face. 

He giggled happily, rubbing his hand over the soft white fur on its back. The darker coloured one sat placidly next to Lunafreya’s knee. 

“Prompto,” Noctis said, snatching his attention. He was wearing a soft smile on his face. “You’re playing with Pryna — the darker one is named Umbra. They’re Luna’s dogs.”

Dog. He liked that word. It fitted the cute little fluffy things. 

He rubbed his hand on the white dog’s fur. “Pryna,” he said softly. Hoping none of the others heard him. He didn’t want to get in trouble again. 

She yelled at him in reply to her name and he flinched away, curling to hide behind Noctis’s knee. 

Fingers curled into his fingers through Prompto’s hair. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. She’s just barking. Just saying hi back to you.”

Prompto nodded to acknowledge he was listening to him, but he didn’t come out from his hiding place. Pryna licked at his hand and he stroked her ears, but that was it.

After the brown drink was all gone, they all stood up and headed out. 

The first place she led them to was a bright room filled with women who had strangely rounded bellies. 

They hadn’t been in there for very long before Ignis cried out a surprised “Mummy!” and hurried over to one of the women on one of the comfy-looking chairs. Prompto made a confused noise, watching as the normally serious and fussy man folded himself onto his knees and rested his chin on her knees. 

Lunafreya gave him a gentle smile. “That’s his mother.” She said it as if that was supposed to clear up his confusion. 

Mo-ther. That was a new word, he’d never heard it before. 

Noctis hand touched his, and he turned to look at him. “Prompto,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “Do you… do you not know what a mother is?”

He just have an easy-going smile and shook his head. No, he didn’t — but whatever it was, it seemed nice! Ignis’s “Mother” was neatening up his hair and cooing to him in greeting. 

Noctis didn’t really like his answer, maybe. He looked sad for some reason. He tucked Prompto under his arm, and held him there as they walked through the rest of the facility. (Ignis stayed behind with the Mother instead of coming with them, but he seemed happy there.) 

It was a confusing place. Instead of a growing room, they just had different rooms full of the little people in different sizes being looked after by fully-grown slaves. They were doing practice tasks that looked fun, using plastic items to pretend to clean and cook and stuff like that. 

After they’d walked through all the rooms (and there was lots more full-sized people towards the end, but not more than the littler ones) Lunafreya led them out to the flower fields. 

Prompto ran around with the dogs — they brought him toys that he threw and they chased and brought back to him. It was super fun. He wondered if Noctis would get a dog for him to play with back at the Train where they lived. Or maybe a dog wouldn’t like to be on the train all the time. 

Eventually he was tired of running around, and came back to where Noctis was sitting, throwing himself on the ground close enough to rest his head on the Ambassador’s lap. 

He panted to catch his breath, smiling up at Noctis as he spoke seriously with Lunafreya. 

“We’re under pressure from the empire,” she was saying, “to move away from a natural breeding facility. Niflheim has already introduced the laws meaning that no born person can Serve — only ones engineered for that purpose. They’ve already convinced Altissia to start phasing out breeding programs, and they want us to as well.”

“How can they just _do_ that?” Noctis hissed. “Those facilities. They make me sick, Luna. They don’t treat them like people any more, they treat them like computers to be reprogrammed and modified however they like. It’s not _right_.”

“It was very cleverly done,” Lunafreya answered with a sigh. “They presented it as if they were raising the Serving class up to the higher levels, Chancellor Izunia famously said ‘ _nobody born should be made to serve_ ’. The cloning facilities were presented as a temporary solution, to transition into a society where people were independent — where there would be no one to Serve or who needed Serving. But they have no intentions of phasing out the facilities.”

“And now they have a middling class who have to serve themselves,” Noctis said, one hand rubbing through Prompto’s hair. Ohhhh that felt nice. “And a class of scientific experiments to serve those in power, or with enough money to afford it. That they treat like objects to be fixed and discarded.”

Lunafreya was quiet for a long moment. “Prompto is one of them, isn’t he?”

Noctis’s hand curled possessively around his back and shoulder. “I rescued him. From the Besithia Facility.”

She sighed. “Prince Noctis…” A what Noctis now? “I hope you know what you’re doing.” It didn’t sound like that was what she wanted to say. But she didn’t add anything more. “Will you stay for dinner?”

“No. We have to be in Cartanica tomorrow morning to tour the Caestino Facility.” He paused. “It was nice to see you again though, Luna.”

Her face was soft as she smiled at him. “You too, Prince Noctis.”

Prompto felt a yucky feeling in his stomach. It twisted around — and he nudged his head into Noctis’s hand pointedly to refocus his attention on petting him. The yucky feeling only went away when Noctis looked down at him and smiled. “Ready to go back to the Train?”


	7. Threat

When they got to Cartanica Train Station, they tried to make Prompto go in a tiny metal box that was going to travel deep down below the ground. He fought and kicked until they got the picture that he very much **would not** go in there. Noctis sighed and asked Ignis to stay at the station with Prompto instead. He paced anxiously in front of the closed doors of the metal box thingy until the horrible squealing grinding noise stopped and Noctis’s voice appeared on Ignis’s glass-top remote thing to let them both know that they’d made it to the bottom without ‘incident’. (Incident was a bad thing, he guessed, and he was glad that Noctis and Gladio hadn’t had one.)

“If you’re satisfied they’re safe now, how about you and I go explore the Train Station?” Ignis said. “I saw a couple market stalls I wish to peruse.”

A calm voice was saying that the train from Sathersea Point would be arriving in thirty minutes, as they climbed up the steps back to the station. Ignis was busy looking through the items for sale to consider what to buy “to restock our scant pantry” — so Prompto wandered to sit on the stairs and watch for the metal box to move again. 

A stranger came to stand by him, watching him intently. He had pale coloured hair and a scruffy bit of pale stubble across his chin and cheeks. He smiled at Prompto, but it was just a little bit intense. 

“So, you’re on that big fancy private train, huh?” The man asked, leaning over the railing next to him. 

He darted a nervous look towards Ignis and stayed silent, linking his fingers together to hold his own hands. 

“Must be nice, travelling in style. Only big important guests of the empire get to do that.” He squirmed, turning a little away from him. He wanted the man to leave him alone, or for Ignis to notice and chase him away. 

“Rumour has it this a very special guest from Insomnia on that train,” the man continued. 

He darted him a scared look. “Go away,” he hissed. “I’ll get in trouble. I’m not supposed to talk to people!”

The man grabbed his arm in a tight, vicious grip. “I came here to get a scoop on the old mine at Caestino, but I think a reveal about Lucian travellers visiting Facilities might be more interesting.”

“Let go of me!” He demanded, trying to pull his arm out of his grip. 

“All you have to do is answer a few questions and nobody has to get hurt.”

“I don’t want to tell you anything!” he hissed, squirming away from him. “I’ll scream!”

“Don’t be stupid. It’s just a few simple questions.” The man whispered. He dragged Prompto up onto his feet and over to the edge of the railings, hanging over the sharp drop down to the underpass below. “Just tell me the name of the Lucian you’re travelling with.”

“Leave me alone!” he demanded. 

In answer, the man grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him. He tipped over the edge of the railing, and he knew he was going to fall. Only the man’s hands on his shirt was keeping him up. “Just give me a name, you dumb slave!” The man demanded, shaking him violently. 

Prompto thought he could hear the edges of his clothes beginning to tear. He fumbled to grip onto the railing and screaming out: “ _ **Specs**_!”

He didn’t know it was work. Noctis sometimes said that word to Ignis, but he didn’t know if it actually meant something, or if it he’d even recognise it. 

“Prompto!” his voice shouted back quickly. 

The blond man hurriedly pulled him back on the railing and settled him back on his feet. As Ignis rushed over, he patted Prompto’s arm. “That was a close call,” he said, putting on a desperately relieved tone of voice. “You have to be careful around the railings, kid!”

Ignis elbowed the man aside, wrapping an arm around Prompto and pulling him close. “Kindly unhand him,” he said aggressively. 

“I just saved his life!” the man protested. “You should be thanking me!”

“I’m not a fool, sir, I can see precisely what was going on.” His arm was still protectively around Prompto, and a thumb rubbed a circle around Prompto’s shoulder. “I suggest you leave the Station immediately. Before I am forced to let the Ambassador know you’ve handled his personal property.”

Prompto gripped his hand in Ignis’s shirt tightly, fingers scraping against his skin underneath, trying to warn him not to say anything else. 

“The Ambassador?” The man asked eagerly, leaning close. “An Insomnian Ambassador?”

Ignis’s eyes narrowed dangerously behind his glasses. “We won’t be speaking to any journalists.” 

Giving the man an angry look, he led Prompto away. He finished purchasing his items from the market and then led Prompto back across to the other side of the station onto their train.

“Prompto,” Ignis said, lifting his face by the chin to force him to meet his eyes. They were green, not like Noctis’s pretty blue. “I need you to speak to me, Prompto. I _need_ you to tell me what happened back there.”

He swallowed anxiously. He was giving him permission, right? “When I was waiting for you to finish, that man started asking me questions about the train and who I was travelling with. I kept telling him to leave me alone. He said there was an important person from Insomnia travelling on the train, visiting facilities — he tried to make me tell him a name.” He shuddered, dropping his eyes away from Ignis’s intense ones. “He pushed me over the edge and held me up. I… I wanted you to help me. But I didn’t think I should use your name, just in case.” He realised he was shaking. “Thank you helping me.”

“Did you tell him anything?” Ignis asked warily. 

He shook his head. “All he knows is what you told him about Noctis being an Ambassador.”

Ignis’s eyes went wide after a moment. “Repeat that, exactly as you said it please.”

He squirmed. “I don’t remember exactly what I said,” he whimpered. “But you told him that Noctis was an Ambassador.”

Ignis released his chin after a moment. “Why don’t you rest, Prompto? That must’ve been a harrowing experience.” He sounded angry and Prompto didn’t know why. 

He nodded silently, and then hurried away to the dormitory. He was curled up under the sheet, trying to calm his racing heart. 

But then he heard Ignis shouting angrily at someone. “You put the whole operation at risk, Highness!” Oh no. Prompto didn’t know what an operation was but it sounded bad. “It was your responsibility to ensure Prompto couldn’t reveal any of our secrets! … Forgot! You ‘forgot’! I ought to leave him right here at the station so he can’t endanger us any further!” Ignis’s yelling stopped, and Prompto couldn’t hear the quieter words from in here. 

He realised he was shaking. He was in trouble. Ignis was going to abandon him at the train station, because he’d been bad and he talked to the man. He ‘endangered’ them, even if he didn’t know what that word meant he knew it wasn’t good. 

There was a yucky loud noise as another train — a much bigger one — pulled into the station and turned off. There were noises outside, people talking and things being moved, but he just pulled the pillow over his head and tried to block it out. 

A little while later, Ignis came in the room with a cup full of milk. “Here. Drink this. The warmth will help.” His voice was gentle — nothing like the angry yelling he’d heard before. 

Prompto sat up enough to take the cup without spilling it. The milk was warm in his hands, and it felt nice as he took little sips. 

“Prompto,” Ignis said gently. “Why didn’t you tell him about Noctis? He was going to hurt you.”

He shrugged, not looking up from his lap. He didn’t want to be even more bad than he’d already been today, and Noctis would be angry if he found out Prompto had been talking again. 

“Prompto, please. This is important. I need you to talk to me about what happened so I can understand.”

“M’not supposed to talk,” he mumbled. “The Ambassador told the Red Man I had to learn my silence. I’m being good, I don’t want him to send me back.”

“Prompto…” He sighed. “He was just saying that to Chancellor Izunia. He doesn’t mind if you talk.”

Prompto just shrugged again, keeping silent. He had learned that he needed to be quiet to be good. Noctis had been soft with him since he’d learned he wasn’t allowed to talk. He didn’t want to go back to Noctis being hard with him again. He didn’t like it. 

“...I promise I won’t tell him that you broke the rule,” Ignis whispered. “But this is important. Why didn’t you talk to that man at the station, Prompto?”

“I didn’t want to,” he whispered back. “I think the three of you are doing something secret and important. I didn’t want to get anyone of you hurt by saying something I shouldn’t.”

“...oh Prompto,” he said, his voice tight with some kind of emotion. “I’ve completely misunderstood you, haven’t I?”

He didn’t really understand what Ignis meant by that. He finished his cup on milk and put it down on the ground, before curling up in his sheets. 

Ignis watched him for a long moment, keeping quiet. When Prompto was just about asleep, he heard the other slave’s footsteps leaving the room and closing the door behind him. 


	8. Pretense

Prompto could hear voices as he came floating up out of sleep. There were fingers scratching against his scalp, and he let them keep him soothed in the half-awake zone where he didn’t have to do anything but enjoy.

“He knows that we’re up to something,” that funny voice, it must be Ignis speaking, “I don’t believe he is aware of the details, perhaps not even your true position, Noct. But most conspicuously, even with his life threatened, he still attempted to conceal our identities. To the extremity that, when calling for assistance in the moment of danger, he refused to use my name.”

Oh no, had Gladio been in danger?

“He was protecting us,” Noctis said, his voice tight with some kind of emotion. “And he doesn’t even know why.”

“It would appear so. I…” Ignis trailed off. “I feel ashamed, that I made such assumptions. But at the same time… I believe I would still favour caution over recklessness. I am sorrowful if I have caused him undue emotional distress, but not for doing my utmost to ensure your safety and our survival.”

“It’s okay, Specs. Just… we’re all going to be better from now on, okay? He’ll be part of this family now. We have to treat him like it. We should’ve been from the beginning, but it’s too late for that now.”

“Yes, Highness.” A silence filled the space between them. 

Noctis’s hands stopped stroking through his hair, and he stirred enough to make his complaint known (with a whine and pressing needily into the still fingers).

“Well. I’ll leave you to it. Dinner will be ready in an hour or so.” There were the familiar sounds of Ignis walking away and closing the sliding door.

“Prompto,” Noctis said, his voice soft and inviting. “Come on, pretty. Wake up.”

He opened his eyes and looked up at Noctis. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hand resting on his hair. He nuzzled into the touch and smiled up at him. 

The hand shifted down to cup his face instead, thumb brushing across his cheek. “Ignis told me what happened earlier,” he said. “You must’ve been so scared. Are you feeling okay now?”

He swallowed and gave a cautious nod. He felt much calmer now, but he didn’t want to go near railings any time soon. 

“Good. I’m glad.” He looked at Prompto seriously for a long moment — his pretty blue eyes looked sad, and Prompto wondered why. “Prompto… do you know what pretending is?” He asked gently. 

Slowly, he nodded. Pretending was when you did something, but not for real. 

“I want you to know that, when I’m going through the different facilities I’m pretending,” Noctis explained. “The things I say to the people in the Facility, I don’t mean them. They’re not true.”

Prompto felt his face wrinkle up in confusion. He wasn’t sure what he meant by that. 

Noct’s fingers came up to smooth away the lines between his eyebrows. “Like when I said that I wanted you to learn your silence,” he continued. “That was pretending. I don’t mind if you talk to Specs and Gladio,” he said calmly. “I wish you could talk to me. But I know your programming forbids that.”

He looked away from the Ambassador’s handsome face, trying to consider his words. He was… allowed to talk to them? Noct wanted him to be able to talk to _him_?

The Ambassador leaned down to press his lips to his forehead with a sort of clicking sound. “I need you to do something if you can, Prompto,” he said softly. 

“Hm?” He hummed distractedly, looking back at him. 

His hand gently held his cheek. “I need you to pretend with me,” he said softly. “I need you to pretend that I’m not nice to you. That you’re the sex toy that belongs to the cruel person I pretend to be.” He looked at him seriously. “Do you think that you can do that with me, Prompto?”

He bit on his lip, considering his words carefully. Then he slowly nodded. He could do that. He could pretend.

Noct leaned in to click his lips against his cheek. “I’m glad. If you pretend with me — just when we’re outside, with other people. Not when we’re alone, or with just Specs and Gladio — if you can pretend with me out there, I don’t have to pretend for you in here.” He leaned back so they could look into each other’s eyes. “I don’t want to pretend with you, Prompto. Like I had to the first night when… when I was inside you. I don’t want to have to do that again.”

He nodded, reaching up to press his lips against Noct’s cheek in return. He wasn’t sure how to make the the funny clicky noise with his lips, but he hoped the Ambassador got that he was returning the gesture.

Noct smiled when he pulled away, reaching up to press his fingers to the cheek Prompto had touched. “Thank you, Prompto,” he said, his voice soft and warm. 

He smiled back at him, feeling something nice and warm spreading through his chest and belly. 

Noct settled his fingers in Prompto’s head and began to stroke them through his hair. “Tomorrow we go to the boat, and then we’ll go across the ocean to Altissia. And then after Altissia, we can go home.”

Prompto nodded. He didn’t know what an ocean or a boat was, but Noct said them like they were nice things — so he would look forward to it.

***

Prompto did not like the ocean. No, sir. It was lots big, and it rocked the ‘boat’ around so it was never still. The movement made his belly twist around uncomfortably — and at one stage the twisting got so bad he spit up all the food he had eaten already. 

He cried and tried to clean it before anyone noticed — but Gladio caught him. He expected to be punished for making a mess, for wasting food they had given him. But Gladio just helped him wash himself up and took him to the front of the boat where the wind blew on his hot face and taught him how to watch the line where the sky and the ocean touched so his belly wouldn’t be so focused on the rocking of the boat. 

But when it got dark and they couldn’t drive any more, Noctis just gave him a command to sleep and promised to wake him up once they reached Altissia. 

  


Altissia was nice, and so so pretty. 

Noctis had to put a black strip of material around his neck and attack a long strip of material to it that he could hold — because it was a ‘law’. (He wasn’t sure what a law was, but he didn’t mind having to stay so close to Noctis.) Gladio didn’t have to wear one because he was something called a Security Guard slave, and needed to be able to walk around freely to protect Noctis, but he did get cool metal bands around his forearms — and Ignis had to wear the strip around his neck but not be held on a longer strip, because he had a high position above other slaves. 

He had to Pretend when they were walking around. He kept his head down and didn’t look at anyone. He tried to look how he had felt when Noctis said mean things to him, and the way he had ‘pretended’ the first time he’d done his Service. (The only time, really — except for when they’d used their hands on each other’s hardness when it was really cold.) He wasn’t sure he was doing it right, but when they got back to their ‘hotel room’ at the end of the day Noct held him tight and clicked his lips all over his cheeks. 

“You did perfectly, Prompto. Thank you. I knew you could do it.”

A bubbly feeling in his chest from his nice words, he felt daring enough to lean up and press his lips silently against Noctis’s cheek. 

Gladio snorted as he walked past, ruffling a hand through Prompto’s hair. “Close, kid. But not quite there yet.”

“Don’t tease him, Gladio,” Noct frowned. “He’s still learning. I like them.”

He wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but Prompto smiled widely because Noct liked whatever it was he was learning. And that made him feel good. 


	9. A City by the Sea

On the first day, they went visiting. They went to the Totomonstro — a showcase of all the best trained fighters at the Galviano Facility. 

At one point, Prompto looked from Gladio, to the preening muscular men, and then gave Noctis a questioning look. 

The Ambassador chuckled. “No. Gladio comes from an old family line that’s protected mine for generations. He doesn’t come from here.”

Oh.

“I’m gonna choose to take that as a compliment,” Gladio grunted, before leaning forward to watch the fight. 

They were private in the box, so Prompto didn’t have to _pretend_. He could curl up next to Noct, and enjoy his hair pets while he ignored the fighting going on down below. 

They spent the morning there — until it got too hot for the slaves to keep fighting. 

Then Prompto had to pretend as they wandered through the city in search of a important restaurant. He was wary as they climbed onto the small boats that the people with striped shirts pushed around, but they weren’t as bad as the ocean boat. Especially when he got to cuddle close to Noct for protection. 

The restaurant Maagho was hidden away under a building, run by a dark-skinned man who Noct called ‘Weskham’ and Ignis called ‘Master Armaugh’. (Prompto was surprised to learn that he had been a household slave like Ignis, from a long family line that served Noct’s family like Gladio, but had earned his freedom.)

They ate lunch there, and then Noct left Prompto there while he went on the tour of Galviano. He pouted, not wanting Noct to go away from him, but he didn’t protest. Just pressed his lips to Noct’s cheek and enjoyed the smile he got in return. 

He was just sitting there — and then he noticed one of the men in the restaurant kept looking at him with too much interest. He wanted him to stop looking at him. 

Eventually the man came up, and started asking Weskham questions. Was that slave for sale? Who did he belong to? That was a Quicksilver model from the Besithia Facility, wasn’t it? How did that Ambassador manage to get one?

Prompto couldn’t be more relieved when Noct returned and the man left the restaurant. He clung to him tightly, hiding inside the collar of his shirt. 

Noct chuckled and stroked his hair. “Miss me that much?” He asked fondly. 

He just nodded. He wanted to be able to tell Noct about the man and all the questions he asked and the way he looked at Prompto. But he couldn’t. Even if he tried. 

They went walking around the city for the rest of the afternoon — trying different foods and visiting places that must’ve been important to the three others but made no sense to Prompto. 

Then they finally got to return to the ‘Leville’, and he didn’t have to pretend any more. He wriggled out of the uncomfortable clothes as Noct unclipped the ‘leash’ from his ‘collar’. 

The Ambassador chuckled. “Yeah. I know the feeling.” He stroked Prompto’s hair fondly. “Come lie down with me? I feel like a nap.”

Prompto nodded and walked alongside him happily. 

Noct fell asleep quickly. He stayed tucked into his side, watching the peaceful expression on the Ambassador’s face. He was a beautiful man, Prompto had seen that straight away. It was his eyes that had drawn him in first. But they were closed now, the pretty blues. 

He rested his chin against Noct’s chest, watching him and waiting for him to wake up. 

He stirred eventually — not quite awake. But his body arched up against Prompto’s sleepily. He blushed slightly — he could feel Noct’s hardness rubbing against his belly. 

They hadn’t been together in that way since before Cartanica. In the cold, with Gladio and Iggy across the floor. Prompto was starting to wonder if Noct didn’t want him in that way. If he’d only wanted Prompto to pet and cuddle. 

Prompto didn’t mind either way — he’d never expected to be anyone’s Sex Toy. But he had to admit he was pleased at the thought Noct did want him in this way too. 

As the Ambassador stirred awake, Prompto shifted his hand down to press against the hardness through his underwear. 

Noct hummed as he opened his eyes, arching a little into the touch. “Mm. Prompto?”

He chuckled a little and rubbed his hand slightly across the fabric. 

“You sure?” Noct asked, reaching up to stroke his fingers through Prompto’s hair. “You don’t have to do this just because you think you have to, Prompto.”

He gave Noct a smile, nodded resolutely… and then he began to slide beneath the sheets. He used his mouth, pulling pleasured noises out of the Ambassador. He didn’t pull away when he spilled, and the stuff flooded in his mouth. 

He drew back after, making a face and spat it out with a noise about how _yucky_ it was. 

Noct laughed and grabbed a tissue to help clean his mouth and hand. “Yeah. It can be like that.”

Once his face was clean, he curled up to Noct’s side and pressed his mouth against his cheek. The Ambassador smiled at him and shifted a hand down to slide inside Prom’s pants. 

He blushed and arched into the touch. He made a confused noise, meeting Noct’s eyes in unfairly silent question. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Noct asked, his pretty blue eyes intent on him. 

He shook his head rapidly and arched up into his hand. He didn’t want him to stop. 

Noct shifted to kiss along his neck as he stroked his hardness. When Prompto was whining, feeling tortured by the pleasure that just wouldn’t come, the Ambassador shifted up to murmur into his ear: “I want you to come, Pretty Prompto.”

The bliss overcame him, and he floated in the nice space. He could feel Noct beside him, hands and lips brushing his skin. 

Yeah. This was nice. He liked Altissia. 


	10. Almost There

The Ambassador took Gladio out with him in the morning to do more important secret things, leaving Prompto in the ‘Leville’ with Ignis. 

He wandered in to the kitchen, coming to a stop when he saw the household slave laying out lots of ingredients on top of the counters. “Whatchya doing?” He asked curiously, coming over to look at them all. “There’s lots of things.”

Ignis gave him a little smile. He had been a lot softer with Prompto recently. It was nice, Prompto didn’t have to feel as wary around him. “I’m going to be baking a special dessert for Noct today. Or at least, attempting to. I haven’t quite perfected the recipe yet.”

“Oh.” Prompto looked over everything. “Looks hard. Do you want some help?”

“I’m perfectly capable of producing them myself.” 

Prompto deflated. Right. Of course. Ignis was smart, and clever, and good at everything he did. Why would he need _Prompto_ ’s help?

“...but you’re welcome to assist me if you so desire, Prompto.”

He looked up, joy bursting over him and pulling at the muscles of his face. “Yes! Please! I’ll help!” It was something special for Noct after all — he wanted to help. Noct was so nice and soft with him, he liked to do extra things that might make him happy. 

“Very well. Wash your hands and put on an apron, then you can assist me.” 

He got tangled up in the loops, but eventually Iggy helped him into the apron and secured it tightly around his waist. 

First he helped mix the bowl of flowers and sugar that Iggy measured out, watching as they all swirled together until he couldn’t tell what was what any more, it all looked like the same white powder. Then he mixed it with… cheese? No, something called ‘butter’ until it wasn’t a nice powder any more — and then water until it made a dough kind of thing! 

“I’ll start mixing the custard. Why don’t you start counting the berries?” Ignis suggested, handing him some clear plastic tubs full of little black berries. 

“Um.”

“Ten will do. Just put them into that bowl.”

He stood by the kitchen counter, looking at the tub of black berries in his hands, and then down at the clear bowl Ignis had indicated.

Ten.

He was supposed to count ten berries.

Swallowing anxiously, he reached into the tub. One… two… three…

Okay. He could do this. There were numbers after three. He knew that. The next one was… Um.

It… it started with an ‘f’ noise, right? F… ffff…

The bowl with the three berries was getting all blurry, and his throat hurt. It felt too tight, like it was trying to close in on itself. His nose was starting to get drippy, and he gave a sniff so it wouldn’t drip into Ignis’s berries for Noct’s special treat. 

He flinched when he felt something touch his wrist. But his eyes focused through the blur onto… Ignis’s hand was gently surrounding his. 

“Prompto?” He asked, his voice softer than he’d ever heard it before. 

“Yeah?” He asked, wincing when his voice cracked in pitch. 

“...you don’t know how to count, do you?”

He winced. “Only a little bit. I don’t know what comes after ‘three’.”

“It’s quite alright, Prompto,” Ignis said kindly. “There was a song my mother taught me when I was learning to count. Would you like me to teach it to you?”

He nodded, ashamed. “Yes please.”

The song was simple, with rhymes to help him remember the next one along — and every new number was a different note so even if he stumbled to remember the word, he could count by humming the correct note instead. 

Iggy taught him how to count to ten, and said he’d leave the “teens and beyond” to another day — whatever that meant. But Prompto was able to count out the ten berries for the special treat for Noct and that made him happy. 

  


When Noct got back when the sun went down, he gave a soft smile at seeing the treat. But when he spoke to Ignis about it, he sounded almost dismissive: “it’s good. Closer. But still not there.”

Oh. Prompto didn’t feel much like eating his treat after that. He left it to Gladio, who could pack away lots and lots of food. 

When Noct went to the bathroom, he headed into the bedroom he’d been sharing with Noct, moving the sheets and blankets so it would be comfortable for him. 

“What’s up with Prompto?” Gladio grunted. 

“He assisted me with my baking today. I believe he’s quite disheartened by Noct’s lack of pleasure.”

He settled on the bed to wait for the Ambassador to come back in. He was dressed in pyjamas, hair damp and freshly combed from the shower. 

“Hi, Prompto,” he said. Coming over, he flopped on the bed and cuddled the blond closer. He sighed heavily. “We go home tomorrow.”

He hummed in question. Back to the train? 

“I can’t wait to show you Insomnia,” he whispered. “It’ll be different for you there. We’ll figure out what the Facility did to your head, and we’ll undo it. I hope you choose to stay with me after that.”

He made a confused noise, tilting his head up to see him. Why would he leave him? He just didn’t understand. 

Noct stroked his fingers through Prompto’s hair. “I know you can’t imagine it now. But it’ll all be different when we get home.”

Still… even if things were different, Prompto couldn’t imagine wanting to be away from Noct. The Ambassador was so nice, so soft. Even if he didn’t appreciate their baking. 

To prove his point, he shifted up to press his mouth against Noct’s cheek. He felt the Ambassador smile at the touch. 

“Let’s get some sleep. It’s gonna be a big day tomorrow.”


	11. Going Home

They had to pretend to be silent and serious — but they all (all _four_ of them, he knew that number now!) were secretly excited and relieved. They were leaving Altissia, and going back to somewhere called Insomnia. Home. 

(They didn’t live on the train after all, Prompto found out.) 

Connected to Noct by the long strip of leather, Prompto followed Noct along the footpaths over to the big dock where the Boat was waiting. He wasn’t eager to get back on it, but maybe Noct would tell him to sleep again and he could rest the whole way there. 

They headed through the barrier onto the departure dock and Ignis handed over their travel papers. Prompto didn’t like the way the man behind the counter was looking at him. It reminded him of the way the strange man at Maahgo had looked at him. 

He grunted, led them through to a waiting room, then disappeared to talk on the phone to someone else. 

Everyone seemed tense. Prompto curled up on Noct’s lap and gave him a wide smile, hoping it would cheer him up. Noct gave him a grateful smile in answer and started to pet through his hair. 

A different man in the same uniform as the other one came in. “Ambassador Gar.” 

Noct was pretending again. His voice was mean and impatient. “I hope you have a good reason for this explanation,” he demanded. 

“My apologies, Ambassador. You’ve purchased an Imperial Slave and are trying to take it out of territory. That is not a situation we have dealt with very often. We had to consult upper management about the Slave Import laws.” 

“I filled out the documentation,” Noct said coldly. 

“Yes, Sir. Only there is a two week quarantine period that must be observed before the slave is permitted to leave imperial territory.” 

“Absolutely _not_!” Noct snapped harshly. One hand clenched around Prompto’s shoulder tightly. It almost hurt. 

“Ambassador,” Ignis said calmly. He stood up and walked out of the room with the man in the uniform a little way to talk to him quietly. “Is everything in order? Are you sure there isn’t some _additional fee_ we’ve yet to pay?” He enquired. 

“Noct,” Gladio whispered, once they were far enough away and talking loud enough not to hear them. 

“No,” Noct said stubbornly. 

What were they even talking about? 

“They probably just want an excuse to mess with the programming or something. Hide it, or lift it.” 

“The programmers back in Insomnia won’t be able to reverse engineer it, help us develop a case.” 

“Come on, Noct,” Gladio said quietly. “You know it was never about that.” 

The Ambassador sighed, lifting the hand from Prompto’s shoulder to stroke his fingers through Prompto’s hair. “Two weeks, Gladio. That’s longer than we’ve been together. What if he…?” 

“He’ll understand, Noct. You know he will.” 

Prompto glanced up at them. He got the feeling they were talking about _him_ , even though they hadn’t used his name. 

Noct looked down at him, and his face looked so _sad_. He leaned up and pressed his lips against Noct’s cheek. But that didn’t cheer him up like it usually did. It made him look more sad. Noct held his face in one hand, thumb stroking across his cheeks. 

Ignis came back in, his expression grim. “There’s nothing to be done,” he explained. “It cannot be avoided.” 

“Then we’re staying,” Noct declared loudly. “We can’t let him stay here alone.” 

“Noct,” he said, his voice tired. 

“I know.” He leaned his head against Prompto’s, taking a few deep breaths. 

A yucky feeling was twisting in his belly. He had a very bad feeling. 

Noct pressed his lips against his own, shifting them together. Oh, he thought weakly. This was kissing. It didn’t make the squirmy feeling in his belly feel any better. “I’ll come back for you,” the Ambassador said, his voice determined. “As soon as I can. I promise.” 

Oh. A whimper escaped his throat. His eyes stung and everything got all blurry and shaky. They _had_ been talking about him the whole time. They were leaving him behind. 

But Noct would come back for him, right? 

Right? 

“I’ve put Master Weskham down as his contact,” Ignis explained. “He’ll check in daily and send us updates.” 

“Okay.” But Noct didn’t seem to be letting him go at all, still holding his face in his hands and stroking thumbs across his cheeks. 

“Noct.” 

“I know.” 

Gladio sighed and stood. He bodily picked Prompto up and lifted him off the Ambassador. “Don’t make this harder than this has to be,” he growled, his voice sounding strangely tight and strained. 

“Don’t forget!” Noct called, as Gladio carried his kicking body out of the door. “I’m coming back for you, Prompto. Don’t forget!” 

His distressed face was the last thing Prompto got to see before the door closed and separated them. Suddenly everything felt too heavy. All his limbs weighed too much to keep up — he hung limply in Gladio’s hands. Everything kept blurring and clearing again, why did his face feel wet? Sweating? 

Gladio dumped him on a cushion by the main counter. “The Ambassador will send someone to collect him in two weeks. He better be in the same condition we left him in, or the Ambassador will be displeased.” He handed the end of his long leather strap over to the man in the uniform. “Wasted enough of our time yet?” He demanded. 

Prompto couldn’t watch as Gladio turned and stomped out of the room. He curled up around his aching chest, hugging his knees close as if that could give him any comfort. 

“I feel almost bad for this one,” one of the uniformed men muttered to the other. “The guy seemed like he actually liked it.” 

The other man pulled a face. “If you feel so bad, I’ll call it in myself and you don’t have to take your share of the reward.” 

“I don’t feel _that_ bad,” the first scoffed. 

The men spoke to someone on the phone, but he couldn’t listen any more. It must be Weskham, right? Ignis had said they were calling him. 

Prompto closed his eyes, everything felt heavy and terrible. He wished he could sleep, but it just wouldn’t take him. 

  


Finally, he heard footsteps approaching him. “Here it is,” one of the uniformed men announced. 

He opened his eyes, expecting to see Weskham. But fear sliced through him. 

He’d seen this man at Maahgo, yes. But it wasn’t the dark-skinned former slave who runned the place. This was the man that had asked all those questions about Prompto, and made him uncomfortable with the staring. 

“A fine specimen.” The strange man handed the guard a briefcase. “The usual fee. Divide it amongst yourselves.” He grabbed up the long strip of leather connected to Prompto’s neck and yanked — forcing him to get to his feet before he choked. “Come with me then. My programmers are waiting to fix you up for me.” 

He made a terrified whimper, but the man pulled and pulled at the leather strap, so he had no choice but to follow behind him. 

_I’m coming back for you, Prompto! Don’t forget!_

He would try. He would try to remember. He just hoped Noct would know where to find him. 

**Author's Note:**

> One of my online friends suggested I start a discord server for people who read my fics to be able to interact with each other and with me. So I did! Feel free to drop in.


End file.
